


Road Rage

by Vermillion Jay (krolium)



Series: Old Requests [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Car Accidents, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krolium/pseuds/Vermillion%20Jay
Summary: It only took one wrong move, one turn into the wrong exit (followed by a poorly-executed U-turn) to screw everything up.Norway barely registered the crash, for he hadn’t sustained any real injury, but one cry from Denmark made him perk up, looking to his right. “Are you alright?” he asked Denmark, his brow furrowing in concern.Denmark barely seemed to hear, looking down at his crushed and bloodied legs and whispering, in a low, haunting, breathy voice, “oh fuck.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Request from tumblr! I'm hoping that reposting these on here will motivate me to work on some more... We'll see how that goes.

Thunder crashed overhead as Norway’s little car sped down the winding roads. Denmark was in the passenger seat, proving to be as much of a bother as he always was, fiddling with the radio until he found something suitably obnoxious, the storm muffling the signal with white, fuzzy static.

“Nor- _geeee_ ,” he whined insufferably, “we’ve been driving for hours! I forgot how far away Ålesund was from Oslo….”

Norway rolled his eyes as the road straightened up, a tunnel appearing in the distance. “There’s a shocker. Not every country can be as tiny and flat as yours, Dan.”

“Are we actually driving into _another_  tunnel? That’s like, Tunnel Number twenty-four thousand or something. How does that even happen?”

“I dunno, but this one’s only two kilometers.”

 _"Only_ two kilometers?”

And, in spite of the infuriating pounding of rain on top of the tunnel, the continuing static of the radio, and the bastard tailing him in the car behind, Norway cracked a smile. “Exactly. What’s got you so bothered, anyway? Usually, you’re not so fussy on road trips.”

“I’m bored, Nor!” he moaned, finally turning off the stupid radio and sinking back into his seat in dejection. “You should just feel lucky I haven’t started asking if we're there yet.”

Surprisingly, Norway didn’t have a witty comeback for that, so he tried to focus on the dimly-lit road ahead and the tiny bit of gray light coming from the distant end of the tunnel.

It was hard, when Denmark was fiddling with his seat belt, recklessly deciding to take it off as he leafed through the old CD's Nor kept in the glove box. “Wow, Nor,” he murmured, feigning wide-eyed shock. “I didn’t know you liked ABBA.”

And, for the millionth time since the 70′s, Norway said, “everyone likes ABBA except for you, dumbass.”

Denmark gagged, sparing no theatrics as he held out the offending disc and dropped it back into the glove box. “I’m putting on Nephew,” he replied, pulling out yet another CD just as they drove out of the tunnel.

The car that was tailing them only seemed to get closer as they continued up a hill, and Norway had to wonder if this was some foolish American tourist who didn’t understand the need for space on elevated, skinny, meandering roads. Norway was positive he could handle it, though –- he’d dealt with all sorts of idiots in his life, so why not this one?

Danish rock blared out of the speakers, distant lightning quickly gave way to more thunder, and the slick roads were slippery as they’d ever been, but Norway was just foolhardy enough not to slow down. He could totally handle this. No reason he couldn’t. He’d sailed much worse in the Viking Age.

“Nor, I think you’re going over the speed limit,” Denmark noted as Norway turned another corner, intent on losing that stupid tailgater. “Maybe you should slow down a bit?”

He scowled. “I thought you wanted to get there faster.”

“Well, yeah, but… whatever. Do what you want, but don’t blame me if I buckle up again.”

They continued like that for another fifteen minutes or so, Norway getting ever more reckless with his driving as Denmark did his best not to say anything about it. Norway noticed that the Dane suddenly looked much less bored than before, trying to focus on a book that someone had left below the seat.

However, the car to their rear was just as relentless as Norway, and the surge of frustration between the two drivers was almost tangible enough to cut through with a knife.

It only took one wrong move, one turn into the wrong exit (followed by a poorly-executed U-turn) to screw everything up. As Norway rammed into a tree, all he really seemed to notice was that the tailing car finally gone.

Typical.

Norway barely registered the crash, for he hadn’t sustained any real injury, but one cry from Denmark made him perk up, looking to his right.

Blood. Not good.

“Are you alright?” he asked Denmark, his brows furrowing in concern.

Denmark, for his part, barely seemed to hear, looking down at his legs and whispering, in a low, haunting, breathy voice, “oh fuck.”

Making sure that the car was completely off the road, and that there was no one else around, Norway unbuckled his seat belt, opened the door, and made his way to the other side of the car. “Where does it hurt?” he queried calmly as he could manage, running a light hand through his boyfriend's soft hair.

“Oh fuck,” Denmark said again, this time just a little bit louder.

Finally, Norway noticed the crumpling of the car right over top of of the man’s right leg, which was bleeding profusely. “Denmark, I need you to say something to me. What’s going on? How bad is it?”

Denmark shook his head, repeating the ghastly words over and over again: “oh fuck, oh fuck.... Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Norway bit his lip. No good. “Dan, I’m calling an ambulance. I think you’re going into shock. Try to calm down, okay?”

“Blood,” Denmark finally gasped out after Nor made the necessary calls, his eyes still clouded over with a paradoxical mix of anxiety and drowsiness. “So much blood. Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“I just told you, Denmark. You’re in shock. I was told to leave you be for now, your leg is probably broken.”

“Fuck,” he said, once again, “that’s probably not good.”

“No, it’s not. Can you wait ten minutes for an ambulance?”

“I think so,” Denmark said with a nod. “Please stay, though.”

The worried crease between Norway’s brows smoothed out, and he smiled softly as he held Denmark’s right hand in both of his. “Of course,” he cooed soothingly, endeared that, in spite of his near-delirium, Denmark still felt it necessary to make sure that Norway was still there. “Just don’t die on me, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Denmark replied, though his voice was tired and he looked lightheaded from loss of blood. “Let’s try that.”


End file.
